Of Passion and Serenity
by Andromakhe
Summary: Yet another Council meeting fall-out fic. I know it's redundant, but scenes like that are what fics are made of. My take on Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan's thoughts after that infamous disaster in TPM.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: No intellectual theft intended. Star Wars property of LucasFilm, etc.

Spoilers: Ep I

A/N: This is set as Obi-Wan is boarding the ship bound for Naboo after the infamous Council fiasco. It's been done to death, I know, but it's such a turning point in Obi-Wan's life, it just begs to be explored. Besides, I have fun writing Obi-Wan as angry and hurt. We see it so rarely in the movies, yet it's obvious he feels deeply. I suppose this is my own attempt at catharsis, because watching that scene just makes me wince. Absolutely wrong, to everyone. The Council is horrible here, harming Anakin, Qui-Gon, and Obi-Wan in one fell swoop.

Qui-Gon:

I sigh inwardly as Obi-Wan stalks away. The tension is so palpable, Anakin picks up on it and anxiously expresses the wish not to be a problem. I must push my tumultuous emotions aside for the moment and reassure the boy that it'll be all right. But a small voice asks quietly if it really will be, and I feel that I've just lied to him. Anakin distracts me momentarily with a question about midichlorians, which I try to answer, but my heart isn't in teaching for once and I make my excuses and take my leave before I lose patience completely and scold him as I'd done with my apprentice.

I make my way onto the ship and begin pacing the corridors restlessly. Once again, before I can start sorting through my pain and anger, the Queen's captain approaches with news of an impending briefing concerning a plan Her Majesty has devised. I stop walking and blink at him. "Of course, Captain. I'll inform Obi-Wan. Shall I get him now?"

The captain shakes his head. "Oh, no. It's set for tomorrow. There's enough time before we reach Naboo that we can afford to put it off a little. Best to consider the plan when we're well-rested."

My lips twitch in a half-smile and I nod, relieved and grateful. "Very good. I'll tell my apprentice all the same. I appreciate the fact we're being included."

"Certainly, Master Jedi," the captain replies. "You have a part in the plan, I think, and it's basic courtesy besides."

I chuckle softly and lift a hand in farewell, turning to make my way to the cabin I share with Obi-Wan. As I walk along, I begin to allow myself to feel. This might be the only respite we get for the rest of the mission, so I take advantage of it and find an unoccupied cabin near ours to sit and think.

I worry about what will become of Anakin. The Council has rejected him but ironically, since he's free, he'll have nowhere to live if he goes back home. But he has no reason to stay at the Temple if he isn't being trained. Of course, the Council may change its mind when they realize the Sith are stirring.

As for Obi-Wan, it's fortunate he can take care of himself. I can prioritize Anakin's safety and be confident that Obi-Wan won't make reckless mistakes anymore.

But Obi-Wan is upset with me. His side of the bond is closed and I feel his loss. What's more, since there is no danger at the moment, he's within his rights and I can't legitimately command him to open the bond just to gratify myself.

But why is he upset? Isn't it right that I should be more concerned about Anakin's protection than his? It's not that I care less for Obi-Wan; it's that he doesn't need me as much.

But wait...Obi-Wan closed the bond when I said I took Anakin as my Padawan...Oh. I see. Then the Council reminded me I have Obi-Wan, as if I need reminding, and scolded me further by citing the Code. They should know by now the Code isn't law to me. What does Obi-Wan and the Council think? That I'm not committed to him? How can they think that? I invested years in his training and would do so again. He's the envy of many a Master and I'm well aware of what he'll become. He's been a fine apprentice and it's been so fulfilling to see how far he's come. He can do whatever he sets his mind to. The galaxy will be his, and he won't even care because that's not the kind of person he is. I have every confidence in him, which is of course why I recommended him for the Trials. I've taught Obi-Wan just about all I know; life will have to teach him the rest.

Master Yoda implied to Obi-Wan that he was not deemed ready. That will hurt him and cause him to doubt his abilities, and that's no way to treat a Knight in all but name. Because as far as I'm concerned, he doesn't need to be tried. Anyone who knows him knows his commitment to duty and the Order. Yes, he has strong opinions and relies too much on logic and not enough on intuition, but that in no way hurts his chances for passing the Trials. It's not that he can't use his instincts; he just doesn't trust in them as much as I'd like. But there is time. He has his life ahead of him and one day, he'll understand.

The Council discredited both my judgment and Obi-Wan's worth. If they have a problem with me, that's fine. But how dare they drag him into it.

And yet, the mere fact that Obi-Wan could think so ill of me hurts. He's ready to believe I could cut him adrift after years of teamwork. He knows the commitment a Master makes when taking a Padawan. Though his training is just about complete, I want to be at his Knighting ceremony. I want to follow his career, be there when he fails, congratulate and celebrate his successes, be a friend and guide for as long as he wants me. If he doesn't know by now how much he means to me, then I've failed him.


	2. Chapter 2

Obi-Wan:

Sometimes, Master can be such an idiot. SO convinced that he's right and everyone who doesn't see things his way is wrong. Never mind that the Council are all in agreement that the boy is too great a risk to train. I told him they'd say that. Why was he so surprised? Doesn't he listen to me? Oh, right. He doesn't.

I told him at the beginning of this Force-forsaken mission that I felt something ominous. He dismissed it as my own tendency to worry about unfavorable outcomes. I wouldn't worry about them so much if they didn't come to pass so often. And someone has to, anyway. It's not like he watches out for such things. I always have to remind him that people might not agree with him.

Not to mention his tendency to take everything to such extremes. All I said was that the boy was a possible liability. Doesn't Master understand there's more to training him than just his age? If it were just that, I'd try to give him a chance. But anyone with Force-sensitivity would probably feel the boy's longing to be elsewhere. He keeps looking back, clinging to something he lost. If he doesn't want to leave his past behind, or isn't able to, he isn't a good candidate to train. The thing is, I and the Council see that the boy is going to have trouble. He already has impressions of what life is like, what people are like, and the Jedi are very different from what he's probably used to. By Qui-Gon's reaction, one would think I said the boy was evil.

Arriving at the cabin I share with Master, I sigh and throw myself onto my couch, setting my things on the floor next to it. I sprawl on my stomach and turn my head toward the wall as I sense Master's approach. I know I can't actually ignore him, but maybe he'll have the sense not to try talking to me and the problem will be averted. Somehow, I doubt it, though.

I hear the door opening and turn toward it warily. Master sets his things by the unoccupied couch and takes a seat on the edge, looking sideways at me. What a surprise. Maybe he actually feels bad.

"Padawan, the Queen has an idea for a plan when we get to Naboo. You should attend the briefing."

Or maybe not. I prop myself on my elbows and then sit up, facing him and looking at him directly. "Is it right now?" I know I sound annoyed and a tad insolent to boot, but at the moment, I don't care too much.

Master shakes his head. "Tomorrow morning, but not very early. Probably after breakfast."

I consider saying he should take the boy to the briefing, since he clearly would rather train him, and see how much help he is, but I mentally kick myself. That's crossing a line and even so, our relations are already so strained we don't feel comfortable with each other. We still have to work together. This must be rectified. "Of course, Master," I say softly, resignedly.

Qui-Gon nods and gets up again. "You think you'll make it to dinner?"

I shrug. "If not, we have food. Don't worry about me."

I see Master freeze in mid-step and turn to look over his shoulder, but then he turns back to the door and carries on leaving, closing it with a quiet click. It's just as well. I don't want to talk, especially about my feelings toward the boy.

I check on my shields and my training bond, both of which are closed off firmly and have been since that disastrous Council meeting where Master said he was going to train the boy. I know that tomorrow, I will have to open our bond again because it's connected to our mission to protect the Queen, but for now, I'm in desperate need of the privacy. I associate a closed or silent bond with negativity because if Master was not available to me, it has usually been because he was either injured or far away physically. In fact, this is the only time I can really remember deliberately closing my end of the bond. Master and I usually share an honest, easy rapport, and my heart misses that.

But this is his fault. Isn't it? He's the one who pretty much disowned me. He cast me aside in front of the Council and the boy. If he wanted to reprimand me, why did he do so publicly? Have I not served him faithfully? Have we not worked together so long we're one of the most successful Master-Padawan teams? How is it that this boy, that Master met mere days ago, should have stolen his heart so completely that he wishes to train him despite my not being a Knight yet?

But I remember Master said I was ready for the Trials. Right. He only said that because of the boy. But no, intuitively, I know I am wrong. He said it because he meant it. He said I was ready because he thinks I'll pass. Master is many things - blunt, stubborn, sometimes short-sighted, sometimes overly spontaneous - but he is not a liar. He would not have recommended me if he weren't absolutely certain that I'd succeed. I know this because he didn't take me on as a Padawan until he was sure that he was ready and willing to uphold his responsibilities as a Master to guide, train, and protect me, up to and including giving his life if necessary.

It occurs to me to wonder if Master would have said he'd train the boy if the Council had decided differently. If they had said that the boy was indeed the Chosen One due to his incredible Force potential and Master Yoda had offered to take the boy on, would Qui-Gon have accepted this? Part of me thinks that perhaps this is indeed the case. He didn't say he'd train the boy until the Council said no to his being a Jedi. He also said the boy must be trained, not that he specifically had to train him. I suspect now that Master was just being himself. The restriction on number of Padawans means nothing in the face of a bigger entity to serve. But the Council - they don't know Master like I do. Perhaps they think he is being arrogant or wants glory. If that were the case, Master would be on the Council - I guarantee it. No. I think he fully intended to both help me prepare for the Trials and begin teaching the boy the basics of our worldview. Or perhaps the boy would stay with the Initiates until I was Knighted and then could move in with Master.

I'm decided. I still think the boy is dangerous. However, I broke protocol in starting a fight with Master. I told him what I thought and he said he didn't agree and that the boy's future was uncertain, not set in stone. As a Padawan, I should have nodded acknowledgement and dropped the subject. Instead, I pressed the point until he snapped at me. I will offer an apology for forgetting my place just as soon as I can do so without anger.

I open my end of the bond tentatively and feel Master's presence. I open the door before he reaches it and he offers me a small smile, setting a tray with a teapot, two mugs, and some ready-made cold sandwiches onto a table between our couches. Master sits across from me once again and pours us some tea before tearing open one of the sandwiches and offering it to me.

I smile at him and nod my thanks, but do not eat yet. He raises an eyebrow quizzically and I indicate the food on the tray, putting down my sandwich and sipping slowly at my tea. Master's eyes widen somewhat, and I feel through our bond that he is honored, humbled. He deliberately picks up a sandwich, opens it, and looks at me as he takes a bite. I grin and we eat and spend the remainder of the night in peaceful, if not companionable, silence.


End file.
